Thargelion Fair
by GwennielOfNargothrond
Summary: Join the Fëanorioni as they go on the quest of finding the perfect souvenirs, and more, in the Greatest FunFair on This Side Of The Sea. Because Caranthir uses his tax-income well.


_Behold! for I write crack. In fact, this was written several months ago. Also, it was originally written in Finnish, so this is my attempt of an translation. _

_As I said, this is a strange fic. I beg my pardon._

* * *

><p><strong>The Thargelion Fair<strong>

_-exit through gift shop-_

"It's almost like the one in Tirion," Carnistir announced proudly.

"Almost better than that one," said Macalaurë. "Here are, apparently, none of those Vanyarin stands, but some Naugrim-things instead."

"The Naugrim's tax-money are spent well, Káno," Carnistir grinned. "They'll get an extra souvenir when leaving, as a compensation."

Maitimo wondered why the funfair in Tirion had made such an impact on Carnistir that it had been made a copy of in Beleriand, but he didn't bother asking. Macalaurë, on the other hand, was wondering at Caranthir's generosity towards the Dwarves. The amusement park in Thargelion had already been opened a couple of years ago, but it was only now that even the oldest brothers of its proud founder had saw it. It was easy for the Ambarussa to come since they lived next door, and the journey for Tyelkormo and Curufinwë wasn't that long either (and Telperinquar had of course been eager to drag them there), but this was the first time for Maitimo and Macalaurë.

"What should we go see first?" Maitimo asked.

Carnistir though. "It's a big place, Russandol," he said then. "Maybe you should just wander around and see what there is to be found. The layout is about the same as in Tirion, so you'll be able to find everything."

"Tell them you're brother's of Moryo, and you'll get through queues faster," Telufinwë hinted. "But you don't have to mention father, at least among the Laiquendi."

ooooo

"I for one want to see if there are some nice gifts of souvenirs here," Maitimo replied when Curufinwë asked about his plans.

"For whom?"

"Findekáno, at least."

"Yonder, by the vending stands, there are some pretty neat prizes he might like."

"Or then not," said Tyelkormo and Maitimo gave him a questioning look.

"I once won one beautiful dagger, and sent it to Ireth," Tyelkormo explained, "but she didn't reply. Then I sent a helmet, too, but presumable it didn't help either."

"Maybe Naugrim-products aren't her cup of tea," Macalaurë said.

"Well, they were of good quality and quite pretty, too," said Tyelkormo.

"Wrong colour?" asked Carnistir.

"She's sulking at you," Ambarussa explained.

Tyelkormo made a face. "Does not, Pityo."

"Turukáno probably confiscated them," Curufinwë laughed and rolled his eyes. "Of course she's sulking! You don't know women at all!"

"Where did you say the Naugrim-stand was?" Maitimo asked quickly to change the subject.

ooooo

Macalaurë soon found something very interesting. On one clearing there had gathered a group of Elves and Dwarves to watch a performance. Macalaurë had heard very little Dwarf-music and considered the performance fascinating. When the Dwarf after a moment started to sing, Macalaurë felt something unpleasant tremble in his ears when he heard Khuzdul in sung format. The whole show was, however, enthralling his musical mind, and as the other Elves politely backing away beyond earshot the son of Fëanor stayed to listen.

Maitimo and Tyelkormo soon arrived to the prize booths. Tyelkormo clarified the concept:

"The thing with these is that at some stands you always win something, in others depending on your luck or skill, and in some depending on who you're competing against. I like contests where you shoot with arrows." Maitimo wasn't surprised by that preference.

Tyelkormo indeed stayed behind by the bow-and-arrows booths. Maitimo went to see which stand had the best prizes. Then he found some very interesting Naugrim items. Especially one helmet stuck out from the mass. But in this booth, too, you would have had to shoot with a bow and arrow, which caused problems for Maitimo. A serious looking Dark Elf stood by the stand, and he looked up in surprise as he saw a tall red-haired Elf approach the stand.

"Mae govannen," Maitimo said, and was sensible in changing his language to Sindarin. "I would like to try to win that helmet," he said nodding towards the especially impressing Dragon-Helm.

"Very well," the stand keeper said, and gave him a bow and an arrow.

"...but I can't shoot," Maitimo continued and revealed his stumped wrist that had been hidden under his sleeve.

The other Elf's eyes widened as he suddenly noticed the scar.

"I am sorry, but according to the rules you can win only by hitting the goal with an arrow."

"I am Maedhros..."

Of course the Elf recognized the name. "Prince Maedhros, I am humbled by your presence, but rules are rules, and not even your brother can win without participating."

"I was in Angband, as a prisoner of Morgoth."

The stand keeper was at unease. "I know. Your story is known everywhere, and every child knows of the Sons of Fëanor."

"I doubt it's anything flattering," Maitimo scowled. But despite his unease the stand keeper wasn't afraid, but stayed behind his principle. Maitimo snatched an arrow from his hand. He flung it with his left hand and, as a dart it was left to stick out from the goal. Maitimo accepted contentedly the prize that the baffled stand keeper handed to him.

ooooo

Turkafinwë was dragging a prize of his own. Huan walked beside him. They were met by Caranthir. When he saw his brother's catch, he raised his eyebrows. The silvery white teddybear was about half the size of Huan.

"Similiar to those at Tirion's," Tyelkormo said.

"Does Tyelkormo suffer from nostalgia, or what on earth are going to do with that?" Carnistir asked. "There will be some work in merely getting it home."

He took a closer look at the toy. The front of the teddy was adorned by a big heart that read with curly letters _Melinyel_.

"I managed to get the tengwar/Quenya version," Tyelkormo said. "I presume the Cirth versions are meant for Dwarves and Moriquendi."

"But what are you going to do with it?"

Tyelkormo said a little sheepishly it would be for Ireth. "It's not like anything else has helped!" he snapped as Carnistir squirmed with laughter. "So I have no choice but to try this, too."

"That thing Turukáno will purloin for sure. He'll think you're making approaches or something..."

Tyelkormo sniffed and glowered, and Carnistir attempted to regain his poker-face.

ooooo

Curufinwë sipped his drink that he had gotten from somewhere, and peered at a curving mirror from where his twisted mirrored self peeked back at him. In his mind, he was calculating trigonometric angles and the reflection of light. At the same time he was pondering on whether one could construct something useful out of them. His trail of thought was interrupted, when Telperinquar tugged him in the sleeve.

"Atar, this is something you'll want to see!" the youngster said in exhilaration. "They've made metal, too."

"Who?"

"The Naugrim," Telperinquar told him. "There are lots of different metals: of that hard and black sort - but very thin - and silvery - but that's thin as well." The boy's eyes gleamed from excitement. "They could be made into some really pretty jewellery"

"And what with the jewellery?" his father said. "Unless they can be made into weapons against the enemy, there is likely to be little use of them. As little as of those mirrors - for that purpose. They're only for fun."

"Atar..."

"Unless the jewellery could be made into... they could be used to bribe the enemy," Curufinwë said thoughtfully. "Or Findaráto."

"...atar, would you at least come and take a look. It may be that they are useless, but isn't it interesting to get to know the fashions of the Naugrim?"

Curufinwë came eventually. He did not want to appear curious about the little beard-faces, but mithril turned out to be rather fascinating.

ooooo

As did the music. When the Dwarf's song ended, Macalaurë wanted to talk to the singer. The music had been nothing like the Elven music he had heard (neither the music of Cala- nor Moriquendi). The Dwarf - who turned out to be female - wasn't willing to tell the translation to the lyrics of the song (because she was afraid that Macalaurë would have learned Khuzdul just by that. Macalaurë was somewhat glad that his intelligence was feared like that.)

"But it was about Mahal," the Dwarf revealed nonetheless. "His story is one of the few that we sing aloud for you to hear."

"Mahal..." Macalaurë repeated, "is he of your folk?"

"Of course not!" the Dwarf answered. "He is our Father."

Macalaurë didn't understand. So the Dwarf explained how Mahal had long ago, ages ago, placed the forefathers of the Dwarves into the hidden caves of the mountains, where they had woken up.

"Is Mahal Ilúvatar?" Macalaurë asked. "Ilúvatar placed the Quendi on the shore of a lake..."

"No he isn't. Ilúvatar gave us the soul, but Mahal gave everything else."

Macalaurë still didn't understand. Fortunately, the Dwarf was of a talkative kind (and, of course, Macalaurë had complimented her music), so she explained how Mahal was great and powerful, although not the most powerful of them all. Besides Dwarves, he had also created everything important to Dwarves. "Mountains, stones, metals..."

"Is he Aulë!" Macalaurë exclaimed when he finally understood the situation.

Now it was the Dwarf's turn not to understand. So Macalaurë explained who Aulë was, at which the Dwarf nodded eagerly, and ensured him of that Mahal and Aulë were for sure the same person.

"It is wonderful to have met an Elda who has heard of our Father," the Dwarf said with delight.

"Of course I have heard of him. I have known him all my life," Macalaurë said. "I visited him often, because my father was a great friend of his - well, all the Noldor were, I mean, are..."

The Dwarf's jaw dropped. "That is a great honour, Prince Maglor!" The dwarf started asking about Aulë - what did he look like, what was he like, was it true that he had a wife. So Macalaurë ended up telling quite a bit about Aulë, and rather much about Yavanna, too. When the Dwarf heard that Aulë was the friend of Macalaurë's father (because the the Noldo didn't reveal everything), she got excited, and in a very un-dwarflike fashion considered Macalaurë as some sort of a long-lost relative. At least he had an enthusiastic listener, Macalaurë thought, even though, in the end, he didn't get to know so much about Dwarf-music.

ooooo

"So you found what you wanted?" Ambarussa asked when he saw his eldest brother carrying under his arm a helmet and eating candies from a bag he had bought. Maitimo nodded.

"What do you think about the place?" the other Ambarussa asked.

"Splendid," Maitimo said after he swallowed his candy. "Almost as fun as Mereth Aderthad."

"We weren't there," both Ambarussa said with annoyance.

"I know," Maitimo replied smugly and continued on his way.

ooooo

The twins walked determinedly to the swing. The Swing was big, and thus not made just for amusing children. The Swing went up high, and it was in any case so rare it was likely to be the only of its kind on the Eastern side of Belegaer. It was thus no wonder that there was a long queue to the Swing. There were both Dwarves and Elves in the line, and maybe even a couple of Men wherever they might have come from. The Ambarussa glanced at each other, and without further hesitation they went straight to the front of the line. After some disappointed shouts from the crowd, they named themselves Prince Amrod and Prince Amras, of the Noble House of Noldor, and no one who saw their gleaming hair colour doubted their words.

ooooo

Curufinwë soon noticed that the so called mithril was very exceptional. Its most peculiar characteristic wasn't, of course, its appearance or its features (because such metal had been made in Valinor, too - that metal was one of Mahtan's favourite materials), but the fact that it wasn't made by Dwarves, but occurred nature and only in the depths of Khazad-dûm. According to the Dwarves, Khazad-dûm was, however, very far away, so Curufinwë didn't care to go on such a long journey just because of some metal.

Another interesting material was galvorn. This black metal slightly vexed Curufinwë, because it was reputedly an invention of a Dark Elf. Curufinwë bought a piece of it in order to examine its structure later. He also bought himself a knife, Angrist, that according to the salesman was so strong it could cleave a mountain. Curufinwë doubted it, and tested the blade on a jewel lying on the counter. The stone neatly split in half, and Curufinwë was forced to buy the shards. However, Telerinquar assured him of that he would make something pretty out of them. (Curufinwë wondered whether his son had spent too much time with uncle-Fingoldo, since he was so fond of jewellery)

"Silmarilli, at the least, this won't cut," Curufinwë stated, examining his new knife.

"If we ever get the chance to try out," his son muttered.

ooooo

_Dear Findekáno_, wrote Maitimo.

_I just reached Thargelion. Moryo has created a fine copy of the funfair in Tirion, in case you still remember it. I send you a Naugrim made helm. I thought it would fit you perfectly. Of course, it's in a way a bit grotesque, but that's the case with all Naugrim-helms. It might be too heavy even for you, but it has the image of Glaurung on it, so I thought you might like it, since you drew away that very same beast in D. Aglareb. _

Then he wrote some other comings and goings, signed it, and finally added a post scriptum:

_How is Irissë? Tyelko has apparently tried to contact her, but with no success. You wouldn't happen to know anything?_

_- Russandol _

ooooo

Huan did not like the bear. He marvelled at his master's bad taste.

"Well I didn't hear you suggesting anything better," Tyelko snapped at his dog. Huan whined in reply. "Naw... the bird did," the Elf answered sarcastically.

Nobody commented on the conversation, as no one had a clue on the subject. Maitimo, Macalaurë, Tyelkormo, Huan, Curufinwë and Telperinquar stood waiting for Carnistir and Ambarussa. Finally they arrived.

"About time," Curufinwë said. "What took you so long?"

"The Ambarussa wanted to swing for all the money it was worth," Morifinwë said and rolled his eyes. "They said, they didn't think us others would want to leave already."

Telufinwë pouted. "We didn't hog the whole swing! It was just that nobody else wanted to join us."

"You did say you were a son of Fëanor, didn't you, Telvo?" Carnistir asked. "Well, of course they didn't dare, then."

Telvo didn't bother to argue. Pityafinwë, on the other hand, didn't say anything, but stared his jaw ajar at the the bear-like thing, the silvery fur of which glimmered golden-red as the sun was setting.

"Based on everybody's reaction, this feels like a bad idea," Tyelkormo sighed, holding the thing he had bought in his hand.

"Oh, don't worry," Macalaurë comforted him. "Maybe it turns out to be a great gift."

"You are the one who knows Ireth the best," Telufinwë said, "so maybe you are right, and she'll love that thing... there were such in Tirion, too, so it's not too far fetched. A bit nostalgic."

"I might have given her some jewellery; a ring or something," Telperinquar pondered out loud. Carnistir grinned, and Tyelkormo glared at him again. Curufinwë started seriously marvel at why the boy was so attached to jewellery

Then the Fëanárioni went back. The sun continued to set, and thus the afternoon had been more or less useful to each and everyone.

_The End_


End file.
